The Ramayana

by Ramesh Menon

  The shining stairway was unfurled at Rama’s feet, and he climbed aboard. Rama carried his bow and quiver, and a sword. At his very thought, the vimana rose steeply away from the ground and flitted westward, above heavy emerald forests, and then turned north subtly, to fly toward the Himalaya laid like a pale necklace across Bhumi Devi’s throat.

  It is told that, all the way he flew, Rama did not see a single sin being committed in his lands. West, north, and east he flew, and nowhere did he see any taint of adharma below him, but a pure world, with his grace permeating the sacred earth and the hearts of men.

  At last he turned the pushpaka vimana to the south. Drawn surely by instinct, the enchanted ship came to the Saivala mountain, upon whose northern shoulder a great lake sparkled as if its waters were strewn with a million gemstones. Peering down, Rama saw a nyagrodha tree, a sire of its race that grew beside the water. And standing upon his head in sirasasana below that tree, in intense tapasya, he saw an emaciated ascetic, with jata and a long beard and his eyes shut fast.

  Rama set the vimana down on the ground. He alighted from it and approached the strange hermit. Folding his hands to the yogin, Rama said, “I am Rama of Ayodhya. Tell me, Sannyasi, why do you perform such a trying tapasya? Is it for some boon? Or to attain Devaloka? You stand on your head, O Yogin; your tapasya is rare and stern. Tell me, are you a brahmana or a kshatriya? Or are you, perhaps, a vaisya? You could not be a sudra, Muni; for a sudra never sits in dhyana.”

  The ascetic did not move from his asana. But he opened his deep black eyes briefly, and answered Rama in a level voice, “I am a sudra, Rama; my name is Sambuka. And I stand upon my head in dhyana because I want to conquer Devaloka and be Lord of the four quarters.”

  Sambuka shut his eyes again and was lost in meditation. Rama stood numb before the hermit. Then he folded his hands once more to the absorbed Sambuka, drew his sword, and cleanly severed the sudra’s head from his body.

  Suddenly the sky was full of lustrous presences. Indra, Agni, and the entire host of Devaloka appeared as bright shadows on high. Fragrant petal rain fell on the avenging Avatara. The Devas cried that he had done well to end Sambuka’s dreadful sin. But as he wiped his blade clean on some long grass, Rama had tears in his eyes.

  Bowing to destiny, he said aloud, “If I have indeed done well, let the brahmana’s son have life again.”

  Agni Deva said to Rama, “The moment the sudra was killed the brahmana’s son breathed again. But now, Rama, we want to visit Agastya Muni in his asrama. He has slept on water for twelve years, and today his tapasya is complete.”

  Rama and the Devas arrived at Agastya’s asrama in their vimanas and he worshipped them all. The Devas blessed him, and then vanished from the sky. Agastya said to Rama, “Stay this night with me, Rama.”

  The rishi went into his hut and came out with a small bundle of dark silk. When Rama unwrapped the silk, he saw a jewel that shone as if the light of a crimson star had been captured within it. Agastya said, “This was fashioned by Viswakarman, Rama. In all this world, only you are fit to wear it. It will bring great fortune to you and to all your kingdom.”

  Rama bent his head and Agastya fastened the red gemstone around his neck by its golden chain. Rama asked, “What is this stone, Mahamuni? It fills me with such peace, such power!”

  Agastya said, “Once, in the krita yuga, the men of the earth had no king. They went to Brahma and said, ‘Pitamaha, Indra rules Devaloka, but we have no sovereign to guide our destinies. Give us also a king, Brahma. We have decided we must have someone to rule over us, someone as great as Indra.’

  “Brahma summoned the Lokapalas, the masters of the four quarters, Indra, Varuna, Kubera, and Yama, and said to those Devas, ‘Each of you give me a portion of your authority.’

  “The guardians gave him a part of their power. As he received the majesty of the four Gods, Brahma sneezed. A splendid king appeared from his sneeze and he was called Kshupa. Brahma invested him with the power of the four Devas, and made him lord of the earth.

  “Kshupa ruled with the power given him by Indra. He nurtured his people by the grace given him by Varuna. He shared with them the wealth and glory which he had from Kubera, and he punished them when they sinned, using the power of Yama.”

  Agastya Muni said, “Rama, now you are king of this earth. All the power of Kshupa is vested in you. The power of Indra, Yama, Kubera, and Varuna is vested in you. This jewel is the power of Indra. Keep it from now, Kshatriya, and let my spirit find its final peace.”

  The gem shone on Rama’s chest as the sun does in the sky. Rama asked, “Where did you get this stone from, Muni?”

  Agastya’s eyes were full of light, the light of another age. He said, “It was in the treta yuga that I got this jewel, Rama. Then, there was a jungle here in Bharatavarsha, a hundred yojanas long and wide, and no living creature dwelt in it, no beasts and no birds. No men lived there either, only the trees. I sat in tapasya in that vana.

  “How shall I describe to you how wonderful the trees of those times were, how brilliant their leaves were, or how ambrosial their fruit? They were the sires of the trees that live in the world today, and they were closer to heaven. In the very heart of that forest, there was a lake, one yojana wide on every side. Only on its waters would you find duck, teal, swan, ibis, and chakravakas.

  “A feast of lotuses and water lilies mantled its surface, blooms in colors you no longer see in this darkening world, Rama. Beside this lake, there was an ancient asrama. No one knew when it had been wrought, for it had not been built by any human being and no one lived in that hermitage.

  “One summer’s night, I found myself beside the lake and spent the night in that asrama. The next morning, I rose with the sun and went to the lake for my morning ablutions. I saw a corpse floating on the water, a plump, white, naked corpse. I stood rooted, staring at the body, when, all at once, the sky seemed to be lit by another sun, and a vimana flew down, yoked to the most incredible swans.

  “In that open vimana, I saw an immortal, and with him were a hundred gandharvas and apsaras. They sang in unearthly voices; some danced by the first light of the sun, even as if this were the first day of creation. Perfect mridangas and vinas I heard, and from them unearthly music flowed.

  “Rama, as I stood watching, unable to move, the lord of the vimana rose from his golden seat, even like the sun on the crest of the eastern mountain. He alighted from his ship of the sky and drew the corpse in the lake toward him with occult power. And then, I could not believe my eyes: he devoured that corpse, licking up its blood that leaked down his fine chin, crunching its bones, sucking out their marrow, chewing raptly on the flesh and plentiful white fat that decked them.

  “When he had finished, and he discarded only a few shreds of skin, hair, and bone, he went down to the water and bathed, long and thoroughly, and all the while I saw that he wept. As he returned to his vimana, I emerged from where I had hidden myself to watch him, and said, ‘Who are you, O Godlike? How is it that someone as noble as yourself feeds on dead human flesh?’

  “I spoke in great wonder, my heart churning within me, for never had I seen such a strange thing. He folded his hands respectfully to me, and said in chaste, high language, ‘Brahmana, I am the son of King Vaidarbha, whose name was known throughout the three worlds as Sudeva. He had two wives, and a son by each. I am Sweta, his eldest, and my younger brother was called Suratha.

  “‘When my father died, our people crowned me king and I ruled to the best of my lights and ability. A thousand years passed, O Muni, in peace and plenty. For I remained within the bounds of dharma, as well as I possibly could. When the thousand years given me to be king passed, I came here into this forest to sit in dhyana, before death came for me. Before I took vanaprastha, I made my brother Suratha king.

  “‘I lived here beside this lake—the asrama you slept in last night was mine—and for three thousand years I performed tapasya. By my long penance, I gained Brahmaloka, the highest of all the realms. But
when I ascended into that lofty loka, leaving my body behind on earth, searing thirst and raging hunger afflicted me.

  “‘I asked Brahma, “Pitamaha, your realm is free of hunger and thirst. Then why do I suffer like this? Tell me, Lord, what can I eat? For there is no food here.”

  “‘Brahma said to me, “Son of Sudeva, you have nourished your own body with a long tapasya. Yet you have never given any charity these past three thousand years. So eat your own flesh, Sweta, drink your own blood: to quench your hunger and your thirst.”

  “‘I stood startled before the Pitamaha’s throne. This was no less than a curse. Brahma continued, “One day, Agastya Muni will deliver you from your hunger and thirst. Till then, devour your own body, Sweta. Do not worry, your flesh will be inexhaustible. Again and again you shall eat it, and it will never perish.”’

  “He pointed to the lake, and when I looked again at the clear water, the plump, white, and naked body floated there again, as if it had not been consumed, gristle and marrow, just a short while ago. Sweta said, ‘For many years now, I have been slaking my hunger and thirst on that body every day; but it reappears each time, and once more I devour it.’

  “Then he took a bright ornament he wore around his neck, and pressed it into my hand. Sweta said, ‘Lord Agastya, greatest among brahmanas, I beg you, deliver me from this terrible curse. I offer you everything I own. I offer you all my wealth and my punya too. Release me from hunger and thirst. Set me free so I never have to return to this earth. I long to range through the realms of heaven, but I am cruelly bound, Muni.’

  “In pity, I took the scarlet jewel from the suffering king, and at once, the white body vanished from the lake. An expression of untold relief suffused Sweta’s face. He bowed deeply to me, ascended his vimana again and flitted away like a thought into the sky, never to return.

  “Rama, this jewel that has Indra’s power in it was given me by King Sweta, for releasing him from Brahma’s curse.”

  36. Bhargava’s curse

  Rama asked, “Muni, when I was in exile, long ago, you told me something about a cursed forest where no bird or beast came, and no rishis. Was this the vana where you met King Sweta? What was the curse, Agastya?”

  The rishi, whom even the Devas worshipped, said, “I did not tell you the entire tale. But listen to it now, Rama, if you have a mind to. In the krita yuga, Manu was lord of the earth, its sovereign. His son was Ikshvaku, who was a joy to all his family.

  “When a great deal of time passed—and in that yuga men lived much longer than the men of today—Manu sought Brahmaloka for himself. Before he attained samadhi, he set Ikshvaku on his throne, and said to him; ‘Be the sire of all the royal houses of the earth.’

  “Ikshvaku said he would do as his father asked. Then Manu said, ‘Be just in judging your people and punishing them if they err. Consider every crime and its punishment well, consult the Shastras and think deeply. For this is a king’s first dharma, and only this can lead him to heaven.’

  “Manu blessed his son, and left his mortal body. Ikshvaku fell to thinking, ‘How shall I father sons?’

  “In diverse and magical ways, he created a hundred sons, all of them magnificent as Devas. But the hundredth prince, Danda, was full of ignorance and darkness. He did not serve his father or his elders. Indeed, he became known as Danda because everyone felt sure that some dreadful punishment would come to such a dull being, to enliven him.

  “Ikshvaku was fearful for Danda and gave him a part of the earth to be his kingdom, so perhaps he would mend. He gave him all the lands that lay between the Vindhyas and Saivala mountains. Ikshvaku sent his finest builders to make a city for his son to rule from. Danda’s city was called Madhumanta, and he chose Usanas, Sukra Deva, to be his guru.

  “The blessings and grace of the great Sukra seemed to guide Danda’s fortunes for a while, and Madhumanta was like a city of the Gods upon the earth. Its men and women were pious and beautiful; their spirits and bodies, their very lives were lit with dharma. Danda’s own nature seemed to have undergone a profound change, and it appeared that his father’s decision to make him a king had transformed that prince.

  “For ten thousand years Danda ruled with immaculate restraint and growing wisdom, and there was no other king or kingdom in Bharatavarsha to match his. Then, one day, in the fullness of his glory, Danda decided to visit the asrama of his guru, Sukra Bhargava, in the heart of the jungle that surrounded Madhumanta. It was spring, the month of Chaitra.

  “Danda arrived at the hermitage, built on a lake’s sylvan shore, which was like a bit of Brahmaloka fallen onto the earth. Under the glimmering trees, Danda saw a young woman, the very sight of whom made his heart stop still. She was another vision, she was utterly desirable; and he could see her naked body through the diaphanous garment she wore in this place where no man usually set foot.

  “Danda accosted her, and said, ‘Lovely one, who are you? Whose daughter? Oh, I want you!’

  “As he approached her, his arms outstretched, she shrank from him and replied with dignity, ‘I am Araja and I am Bhargava’s eldest daughter. My father is your guru. Don’t touch me, Kshatriya; I am my father’s ward. If what you feel for me is more than mere lust, then ask my father for my hand in marriage and I shall be yours.’

  “But she saw the look in his eyes, and said again, in some panic now, ‘If you force me, Danda, Sukra Deva’s anger will burn you and your kingdom to a crisp.’

  “Danda folded his hands and raised them above his head. He said, ‘If I cannot have you at once, I shall die anyway. I beg you, give yourself to me willingly. For no fear, of death or of any sin, will stop me from having you.’

  “She stepped back from him. But he was on her in a flash, and forcing her down onto the soft grass with irresistible strength, he thrust himself into that virgin girl, like fire. She screamed in fear and pain. But he enjoyed her roughly, and even as she lay numb with shock, a crimson stain spreading under her, he rose and left that asrama.

  “After a long time, Araja stumbled to her father’s kutila and stood sobbing at its door. She stood waiting for her father, who was like a God. Sukra Bhargava came back to his asrama with a knot of his disciples, and heard what had happened. He saw his daughter’s agony and her shame, as blood and the kshatriya’s violent seed between her fair thighs. Sukra’s eyes turned the color of the sunset.

  “He cried, ‘In seven days this king, and all his sons and his army, shall die. For a hundred yojanas around his city, all life shall be consumed by a rain of fire and death shall rule this sinner’s kingdom. All of you must leave this asrama and go to the edge of these lands. No life will stir here in seven days’

  “He turned to his daughter and said, ‘My child, you will live here beside this lake, and the birds and beasts who come to be near you in the night shall stay with you. The rain of flames will not fall for a yojana around this asrama, or on this lake.’

  “Araja bowed her head, and murmured, ‘As you will.’

  “Sukra Deva left that hermitage and his daughter, and went away to a secret place to perform tapasya for expiation from whatever sin it was that had brought down such terrible punishment on him and his child. In seven days the sky grew as dark as the end of time, and a hissing, spitting deluge of flames fell out of it and devoured Danda, his clan, all his people, his wonderful city, and the land around it, for a hundred yojanas in every direction. The earth was charred; no life of any kind stirred upon it any more. Everywhere there were only ashes to be seen, stretching away interminably.

  “Later, a dark and fearsome forest grew up here and only the creatures of night inhabited it: pisachas, rakshasas, and other evil beings. And you know that when the time of the curse drew near its end, I wandered down into this vana with the seeds of the sacred trees of Himavan in my hands, and I sat here in dhyana until most of the curse was removed, and the sun and the wind and the natural rain came again to the cursed jungle named Dandaka after King Danda.

  “Of course, Rama, it was only
when your feet touched this ground, during your exile, that the curse vanished entirely and this earth was blessed again.”

  Agastya said, “Rama, the waters of this lake are sacred. Bathe in our lake this evening, and then eat with us.”

  Rama went down to the lake, which was touched with the dying colors of the setting sun. He first took up a palmful of the precious water and drank it reverently. He entered the lake and bathed in it. He emerged feeling a new vitality and purity course through his body and his spirit.

  Rama came back to Agastya’s asrama and ate a frugal, tasty meal of fine, husked rice, and the most delicious vegetables, among them a redder radish than any he had ever seen, which he relished especially. Late into the night, under a sky full of fateful stars, the king and the hermit sat talking, until Agastya told Rama to sleep and retired himself.

  In the morning, as the sun rose, Rama came and prostrated himself before the muni. “Give me leave, Mahamuni, I must return to Ayodhya. I will come to see you again and have your blessing once more, to make myself pure.”

  Laying his ageless palms on the king’s head, Agastya said, “You are the purifier of this earth. Your presence in the world blesses her for a thousand generations of men. The Lord Indra worships you, Rama; you are the refuge and the savior of this world.”

  * * *

  Rama took the padadhuli from Agastya’s feet. He climbed into the pushpaka vimana and flashed away, back to Ayodhya. In his city, in his palace courtyard, he said to the magical ship, “Go back to Kubera now, my friend, and I will call you when I need you again.”

  Rama went into his palace, his lonely royal apartment, and said to a guard there, “Go and fetch Lakshmana and Bharata to me.”

  They came, and Rama hugged them. He said softly, his eyes shining with a new light, “I want to build the bridge of dharma in our land: the bridge that will never fall. My brothers, with both of you beside me, I want to perform the rajasuya yagna to purify me of the sin of killing the sudra. Tell me what you think.”